


all the things yet to come

by zombietime



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward Flirting, First Kiss, Fluff, Gay Disaster Keith (Voltron), Goth Shiro, Jock Keith, M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-26 01:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18174284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombietime/pseuds/zombietime
Summary: “Hey cutie,” Shiro said with an easy smile on his face. “You need a ride home?”Keith blinked several times in rapid succession before managing to make his mouth work. He gestured vaguely in the direction of the field.“Lance usually gives me a ride.”“Maybe next time, then.”





	1. Chapter 1

Keith would like to think that this whole thing started a week ago when Takashi Shirogane started showing up to watch soccer practice. It would be easy to put the blame on Shiro, who transferred in the middle of sophomore year and is still a mystery to most of their class a year and a half later. But if Keith’s being honest with himself, he knows it started about a month ago and Shiro had nothing to do with it. 

Lance's parents were out a town and he had a party for the entire team plus a few cool kids who were connected enough to score an invite. Several hours in, once everyone was good and tipsy, Lance grabbed an empty Corona bottle and declared it was time for a game to make things interesting.

"Are you serious, Lance?" Pidge had said. "What is this, a John Hughes movie?"

Undeterred, Lance sat down in the center of the living room floor and everyone who happened to be lounging there became an unwilling participant in spin the bottle. It didn’t take long for Keith to realize what had brought this on. Allura was seated to Lance's left, thoroughly engaged in conversation with one of the other cheerleaders. And really, it wasn't fair that Keith was suddenly roped into this because Lance didn't have any game and needed an excuse to make a move on the head cheerleader.

Still he was comfortable where he was and if he had to kiss someone to keep his spot against the couch it didn't seem like a bad trade off. When it came his turn, he gave the bottle a lazy spin. He laughed, ignoring the way his face warmed when Matt made a show of borrowing Pidge's chapstick before he scooted himself forward. Keith leaned forward, not expecting much more than a quick press of lips. But Matt curled both hands around his face, kissed him solidly, and when Keith started to lean back, Matt pulled him back in, apparently determined to give the crowd a good show. He pressed his tongue against Keith’s lips and before he knew was he was even doing, Keith had opened his mouth so Matt could deepen the kiss. He only vaguely registered the cheers and catcalls from the rest of the room. When Matt finally leaned back he gave Keith a wink and booped him on the nose like it had all been no big deal.

“Shit, I think I’m gay.”

Matt barked out a laugh and Keith’s face burned red. He hadn’t realized he’d even said that out loud.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Matt said before wandering off to get another beer.

They’d been friends for ages, even before joining the soccer team together, and Keith was relieved that it wasn’t going to be a big deal. The bigger problem was that Keith hadn’t been kidding. He’d kissed a couple girls at the last team party and didn’t really see the appeal. Now that he’d had a proper kiss from a dude, it looked like his hypothetical gayness wasn’t so hypothetical anymore.

He consoled himself with the fact that it seemed like only Matt had heard his little declaration, so at the very least he was free to ponder his sexuality in peace.

\--

The first time Shiro showed up to watch soccer practice, Keith didn’t even notice him. It was Lance who brought it up while he was giving Keith a ride home. Keith shrugged it off and didn’t think anything of it until later that week when Shiro showed up again. It was still warm out for September, but Shiro was decked out in his typical goth attire: heavy leather jacket, ripped jeans that were more hole than denim, and some kind of patterned leggings showing through the holes. He took a seat a few rows from the bottom of the bleachers, far enough away from the team girlfriends to make it clear that he was purposely distancing himself.

In between drills, Keith jogged over to the watercooler to grab a drink. He leaned against the fence, soaking in the sunshine on his face. The cold weather would be here soon and if there was one thing Keith had never adjusted to when his folks moved up north, it was the seemingly endless winter. He hadn’t noticed Shiro getting up from his seat until there were warm fingers on his shoulder. Keith turned around, startled. When he looked up into slate grey eyes rimmed with black eyeliner, his mouth went a little dry. 

“Hey cutie,” Shiro said with an easy smile on his face. “You need a ride home?”

Keith blinked several times in rapid succession before managing to make his mouth work. He gestured vaguely in the direction of the field.

“Lance usually gives me a ride.”

“Maybe next time, then.” 

Shiro gave him a quick smile before turning back to return to his spot on the bleachers. Keith was distracted for the rest of practice. How could he focus when the hot guy who had previously been an abstract concept was there because of _him_?

On the way home Lance asked what Shiro said to him during practice. Keith felt his cheeks grow hot and he turned his head, suddenly super interested in the passing landscape.

“He asked if I needed a ride home,” Keith mumbled.

“Good thing I’ve got you covered,” Lance said. “Who knows where you would’ve ended up if you’d gone with him.”

\--

It’s Sunday afternoon and Keith finished his homework hours ago. His body thrums with nervous energy and thoughts of Shiro. He thinks about going for a run, but the sun is setting and he knows his folks worry about him running after dark. He picks up his phone and texts Pidge.

_help, i’m gay_

Pidge might be a year younger than him, but they came out as queer and non-binary in one fell swoop their freshman year. If any of his friends are going to not bat an eye at a text like that, it’s going to be Pidge.

_took you long enough_

Keith frowns at his phone. He hits dial on Pidge’s name and waits for them to answer.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It means that Matt keeps telling me about how you’ve been completely clueless when guys flirt with you even though you keep checking out the asses in the locker room.”

Keith is more than a little glad that this conversation is happening over the phone. Because self-realization is a bitch and he doesn’t need the addition of Pidge mocking him for blushing like an idiot.

“Shit. Does everyone know?”

“Only the queer ones. Straight boys are fucking clueless.” Pidge heaves a sigh and Keith hears them clacking away on their keyboard. “So what did you need help with? Or are you just having a general gay crisis? Because I kind of thought you’d have your shit together by now.”

Keith has his shit together. Mostly.

“I think Shiro likes me,” he admits.

“Oh?”

Keith was hoping for a little more reaction than that, to be honest, but he soldiers on.

“He offered me a ride home after practice. And he called me cute.” No way is he repeating what Shiro said verbatim. 

“Hmm. You should definitely get on that. Climb him like a tree.”

“Pidge!”

“What? You wanted advice, I’m giving it. I’m barely into cis dudes and even I’d make an exception for him.”

Keith groans in a way that even he knows is pathetic. His only option now is to try and figure out how to flirt back and hope Shiro doesn’t laugh in his face.

\--

On Monday, Shiro doesn’t show up to first period Calculus at all. They only have one other class together but it’s the last period of the day. Chances are Keith won’t see him until then, if he’s there at all. So all in all, it’s not going great.

When his last period English class finally rolls around, Keith makes sure to get there as quickly as possible. He has no idea what he’s going to say, but he wants the opportunity to say something before class starts. Shiro strolls into class seconds before the bell rings and Professor Coran raises an eyebrow at him.

“Mr. Shirogane, will you please find a seat so we can begin?”

Shiro gives him a two finger salute as a response. A few of their classmates laugh under their breath as Shiro makes his way towards the only empty seat at the back of the room. He’s wearing a dark purple lipstick that matches his eyeshadow and his extremely low cut t-shirt. It’s truly unfair how much hotness can exist in one human being. Shiro’s already damn near 6 feet tall with muscles for days, does Keith really need to be tormented with the sight of his chest hair, too? Shiro winks at him as he catches Keith staring and Keith sinks into his seat as he quickly looks away. He’s flipping through his textbook, pretending he has any idea what page he’s supposed to be on when a folded-up note lands on his desk.

There’s a little K in the corner, just in case Keith wanted to try to convince himself that Shiro had somehow given him the note by mistake. He swallows around the lump in his throat and tucks the note underneath his book. It feels like it takes hours before Professor Coran turns his back to the class to write out his notes on the history of the Romantics. When he unfolds the paper, there’s a single sentence scrawled across it. 

_Those soccer shorts look great on you. -S_

Keith can only hope that no one else notices his furious blushing as he shoves the note back underneath his textbook. 

\--

The last bell of the day rings and his classmates rush for the door. Keith still takes the bus so he’s getting home the same time regardless of how fast he gets out of the building. 

“You didn’t write me back.”

Keith turns around and finds himself crowded up against his desk, Shiro’s body a wall in front of him.

“I, um.” Keith grabs his backpack and shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. “Didn’t want to get in trouble.”

“Aww, wouldn’t want detention to keep you from the team, would we now?”

There’s a smug look on Shiro’s face and Keith isn’t actually in the mood to be mocked, so he pushes past Shiro and heads out the door before he can risk looking back. He’s halfway down the hall when cold metal fingers catch him around the wrist. He stares at Shiro’s prosthetic hand for a second before he lets his gaze travel back up to his face.

“Hey. I’m sorry,” Shiro says. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole.”

Shiro’s fingers are still wrapped around him but Keith doesn’t pull away.

“Were you making fun of me?” he asks. “With that note?”

“What? No. Dude, I was trying to tell you I think you look hot out there.”

Keith knows he’s better than average looking, but he wouldn’t call himself hot. Especially not in comparison to Shiro. He knows Shiro’s out of his league. If the guy didn’t play up the whole air of mystery tough goth thing, he could probably have any girl or guy he wanted.

“I -- wasn’t expecting that.”

Shiro laughs and takes a step closer, still not letting go of Keith’s wrist. His metal fingers thread through Keith’s and he brushes a piece of hair behind Keith’s ear with his other hand. Keith glances around the hallway, which is mostly empty by now. It doesn’t matter if anyone sees them, not really. It’s not like they’re doing anything.

“Clearly.” Shiro grins at him. His fingers are still tucked behind his ear, stroking his hair. Keith can’t stop staring at his mouth, thinking about that purple lipstick and what it’s like to kiss someone with a lip ring. “No one’s ever told you how cute you are before?”

Keith shakes his head, finally breaking eye contact.

“Not sober, anyway,” he mumbles.

“Let me give you a ride home,” Shiro says. It’s not really a question this time and Keith can’t think of a reason why he should say no.

“Okay.”

\--

Shiro doesn’t let go of his hand all the way out of the parking lot. Keith tries not to think about that too hard. There are only a few cars and a motorcycle left as they approach the parking lot. _Shiro’s_ motorcycle. Keith doesn’t know how the fact that Shiro rides a _motorcycle_ slipped his mind when Shiro offered him a ride home, but he’s here now and there’s no turning back.

“Don’t worry, I have an extra one for you.” Shiro says as he fastens the latch on his helmet. “Safety first.”

He bends down to open up the saddlebag and pulls a red helmet out. Keith doesn’t know why he’s so surprised that the helmet is any color other than black. Goths like red too. He’s listened to Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, he knows things. Shiro throws a leg over the bike, starts the engine, and stands it up off its kickstand. He turns back to give Keith a small nod. Keith steps up hesitantly and climbs on, sliding onto the leather seat. He’s so close to Shiro now that he can feel his body heat through his jeans where their legs are pressed up against each other.

“Hold on to me,” Shiro says. Keith takes a breath and tentatively rests his hands at Shiro’s hips. He thinks he can hear Shiro laugh over the sound of the engine. Shiro slides his hands over Keith’s, pulling them tight around his waist. “You’ll thank me later.”

Keith doesn’t get the chance to respond before Shiro takes off.

\--

Keith goes from thinking this is something he can definitely handle to shrieking in a completely undignified way when Shiro rounds the first turn. Shiro slows to a stop at a red light, then turns his head and lifts his visor. There's an amused smile on his face.

"Lean into the turn, don't fight it," he says. He reaches down with his metal fingers to squeeze Keith's hands where they're clamped around his waist. "Don't worry, I won't let you fall."

The next time Shiro approaches a turn, Keith tightens his grip around his waist and squeezes his eyes shut. He presses his chest against Shiro's back and leans with him into as the motorcycle goes around the corner. When they right themselves, Keith finally exhales. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath. Shiro stops the bike a few blocks away from Keith's house, puts his foot down to steady the bike and flips up his visor.

"You're going to have to direct me the rest of the way," he says.

"How did you even get this far?" Keith asks after flipping up his visor. He’d been too busy being terrified to even wonder until now.

"We used to take the bus together, remember?" Shiro says. “I was the stop right before you.”

"Oh. Right."

Keith barely remembers sophomore year, when Shiro was the quiet new kid who sat at the back of the bus. He does, however, remember how junior year came and Shiro showed up six inches taller, nearly a foot wider, dressed like he just came from a Misfits concert and with a white streak in his jet black hair. 

“Take a left at the end of this street and then the 3rd right. I’m the second house on the block.”

“Got it.”

\--

Shiro pulls into the driveway and turns off the engine. Keith climbs off first, a little unsteady as he takes his first few steps. Shiro pulls off his helmet and shakes out his hair. He tugs an elastic band off his wrist and ties his hair back before getting off the bike. 

“Thanks for the ride,” Keith says.

“I’ll have to take you on a few more and you’ll get used to it.”

Keith rocks back on the balls of his feet. Shiro could have just dropped him off and gone. But he didn't. He turned off his bike and everything. This feels like what happens at the end of a date, but there wasn’t a date and Keith has no idea what to do next. What if Shiro tries to kiss him? He’s so not ready for that. He awkwardly clutches the helmet to his chest, knowing at some point he’s going to have to give it back, but right now it feels like the barrier he needs between him and Shiro.

“If you don’t mind.”

“I’m the one who volunteered.” Shiro hangs his helmet off one of the handlebars and takes a step towards him. “And it’s not like you’re out of my way.”

“Right,” Keith nods. He hands the helmet back, keeping Shiro at an arm’s length. “I should go, I’ve got -- things.” Shiro hums to himself, taking the helmet back. “See you at school.”

Keith is halfway up the walkway to his front door when Shiro calls after him. He likes the way his name sounds when it’s coming out of Shiro’s mouth. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re not even going to give me your number?”

“Oh, um. Yeah, okay.” 

Shiro laughs. Keith fumbles in his pockets and backpack for his phone. When he finally finds it, Shiro is standing right next to him, tall and imposing and Pidge is right. Keith does want to climb him like a tree. Shiro takes the phone from his hand and saves his number in Keith’s contacts. He presses dial on his name and Keith hears the sound of Shiro’s phone going off from within one of the pockets of his leather jacket.

“All good,” Shiro says. He hands the phone back to Keith and runs the backs of his knuckles over Keith’s cheek. “See you at practice.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m surprised you own clothing that isn’t black,” Keith says.
> 
> “We get an allotment,” Shiro says. “It’s in the goth handbook.”

The next day Shiro not only shows up on time to Calculus, he shows up early. He takes a seat right next to Keith, nudging his sneaker with one of his giant combat boots. Keith looks up from the book he was reading, surprised to see Shiro there and even more surprised when Shiro leans over and waves him close.

“Missed you, cutie.”

Keith grins like a fool, leaning back in his seat as the bell rings and class starts. He’s certain he’s not learning a damn thing today, especially not when every time he sneaks a glance over at Shiro, Shiro’s already looking at him, smiling like the two of them are in on some secret.

When class ends, Shiro waits for him to gather his things.

“Mind if I walk with you?”

Keith shakes his head and swings his backpack over his shoulder. Today Shiro is wearing a black t-shirt that is so tight Keith swears he can count his abs. He’s make-up free, except for the hint of black eyeliner, and rainbow patterned leggings show through the holes of his skinny jeans.

“I’m surprised you own clothing that isn’t black,” Keith says.

“We get an allotment,” Shiro says. “It’s in the goth handbook.”

Keith snorts out a laugh. He thinks about reaching out to hold his hand about six different times but chickens out every single one. They walk the rest of the way in silence. Shiro gives him a little wave when they part.

“See you in English.”

\--

Hunk is the goalie for the soccer team and he sits in front of Keith in homeroom. He also makes homemade cookies for every away game and anyone who can stop a goal like Hunk _and_ bake is alright in Keith’s book.

Hunk turns around while the morning announcements are dragging on and taps on Keith’s desk.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“Are you and Shiro, you know, like a thing now?”

Keith tries to play it cool and feels himself failing utterly before he even gets the words out.

“No, we’re just -- hanging out,” Keith says. “Why?”

Hunk shrugs.

“Lance is convinced you’re gonna quit the team because you’ll want to spend all your time with your edgy new boyfriend.”

Just hearing the word _boyfriend_ makes Keith’s cheeks go pink. He shakes his head and tries his best to sound casual.

“Lance is a drama queen.”

“Well, yeah,” Hunk says. “But I told him I’d ask since he has zero chill.”

“I’m not quitting the team,” Keith says. “And Shiro isn’t my boyfriend.”

Hunk nods, satisfied with that answer and turns back around. Keith thinks about the word boyfriend and about Shiro walking him to homeroom and something flip flops in his stomach.

\--

During lunch, Keith catches Pidge up on the new developments.

“Oh my _god_ , Keith."

"What?"

"That's stupid adorable."

"I know," Keith moans, slumping forward on the cafeteria table. “He’s already so hot, why does he have to be sweet too?”

Pidge munches on their sandwich thoughtfully. They take a swig from their water bottle and look at Keith.

"I’m kind of surprised, you know. I really thought he'd be more the type to drag you into an empty supply closet and give you a quick handy."

Keith nearly chokes on his soda. When he can breathe again, he glares at Pidge.

"You can't just say stuff like that," Keith hisses.

"Why? Because then you realize you actually want it?"

Keith's already burning cheeks flame even brighter. He must look like a fucking tomato. The thought of Shiro smiling that mischievous smile of his, pulling Keith somewhere private, telling him how cute he is, touching his face all soft and gentle before shoving him up against the wall and -- fuck. He’s going to be distracted for the rest of the day, if not the rest of eternity. Thanks a lot, Pidge.

\--

Shiro isn’t in the bleachers during practice. Keith tries not to let himself be distracted by his absence, but he can feel that he’s off. He misses a shot that was wide open and Lance shoots him a glare like, what the fuck, dude? When they finish up and everyone heads back inside to grab their things, Keith stays behind.

“What’s up?” Matt asks.

“I’ve just got to work off some --” Frustration. Anxiety. Sexual Tension. “Energy. Tell Lance I’ll catch the late bus.”

“Okay.” Matt puts a hand on his shoulder. “Let me know if you need to talk or anything, yeah?”

Keith nods and Matt goes inside. Keith sets up half a dozen cones and dribbles the ball up and down the field until he’s bored out of his mind. He runs laps until his lungs burn and sweat runs down his face, his long hair sticking to the back of his neck. He collapses onto the bench and reaches for his water bottle. He drags a sweaty hand across the back of his mouth and leans back against the fence, still out of breath and closes his eyes. He only opens then when he hears the sound of his name being called.

Shiro waves to him from halfway down the field and jogs up to meet him.

“I thought I was going to miss you,” he says.

“I stayed late,” Keith says.

“Sorry I missed your practice. Coran gave me detention for being late for like, the twelfth time this month.” Shiro actually looks kind of sheepish about it. So much for the bad boy persona.

“It’s okay.”

Keith stands up. He stretches his arms up over his head and he doesn’t miss how Shiro’s eyes travel down to the spot where his jersey has ridden up.

“I didn’t want you to think I was flaking out on you.” Shiro takes a step closer and curls a hand around Keith’s jaw. Keith looks up into his eyes and panic suddenly takes over. He turns his head, steps away. "What's wrong?" Shiro asks.

"You just." Keith stops, swallows around the lump in his throat. "You looked like you were about to kiss me."

"Do you not want me to kiss you?"

Keith chews on his bottom lip as he tries to come up with an answer that makes sense. He wants it, of course. Kissing Shiro is all he can think about every time he sees the light glint of Shiro’s lip ring. But this is going to be the first kiss that actually means something and Keith just wants it to be -- right. He doesn’t know how to express any of that, so instead he just shrugs.

"I don't know."

He would have thought Shiro would be disappointed, but instead he just plays with the ends of Keith’s hair, a soft smile playing over his lips. 

"I was,” Shiro says. “But I'll wait until you're sure."

“Thanks,” Keith says. He tugs awkwardly on the hem of his soccer jersey and kicks at the grass. “Why do you even like me?”

He hadn’t really meant to say it out loud, but even after the words have left his mouth, Keith isn’t expecting a response. It’s a stupid self-deprecating comment. But it’s few seconds before the fingers of Shiro’s prosthetic hand are curling under his chin, tipping his face up to meet his eyes.

“You didn’t notice me until I started showing up at your practices, did you?” Keith isn’t sure what he means. He noticed Shiro’s general existence. He’s kind of hard to miss. “I’ve been -- uh, watching you for a while.”

Shiro’s face flushes the tiniest bit and he runs a hand over the back of his shaved head. Keith notices that the scar across his nose doesn’t turn pink like the rest of his skin.

“Not in a creepy way,” he clarifies. “Just like, in class. You’re always reading and you just seem so intense. It made me want to get to know you. Plus, like I said before. I think you look really hot in that uniform.”

“Oh,” Keith says. Heat blooms in his chest, travels down to his belly, and then -- lower. He has to look away from Shiro then because he is not going to get a semi right here on the soccer field. He is _not._

“Yeah,” Shiro says quietly. His hands rest lightly on Keith’s hips. Shiro tugs him forward with the gentlest pressure and Keith takes two steps into his orbit. Shiro slides one hand underneath his jersey, his fingers skimming up over Keith’s stomach and along his side, fingers slotting in between Keith’s ribs as he pulls him closer.

Keith places a palm flat against Shiro’s chest and holy shit, he’s like a wall of solid muscle. He hopes that Shiro doesn’t think he’s trying to keep a distance between them because for the first time Keith is one hundred percent certain that is not what he wants. He just needed to feel Shiro beneath his fingers, to ground himself in the moment.

Shiro bends his head, buries his face in Keith’s neck and breathes him in. His breath against Keith’s skin tickles and he flinches a little, laughing softly.

“What are you doing?” Keith asks.

“You smell good,” Shiro says.

“I’m sweaty and gross,” Keith says. 

He should be pulling away for no other reason that he’s just realized what fresh hell he must smell like after running all over the field. But instead he finds himself trailing his hand down Shiro’s chest and sliding it around the the small of his back, underneath his jacket.

“You smell like the last warm day before fall comes.”

Keith’s heart pounds in his chest, all his previous doubts vanished. He looks into Shiro’s eyes, trying to convey what he feels without words. He doesn’t know if he could ever come up with words to describe this feeling, not if he had an entire lifetime. It would take so little effort to push himself up on his toes, press his mouth to Shiro’s. Shiro rests his forehead against Keith’s, his smile warm and open and Keith is a goner.

He vaguely registers the sound of footsteps somewhere in the background but is more than willing to ignore it. He’s going to kiss Shiro and he doesn’t care who sees.

“Oh,” a startled voice says. “I didn’t know anyone was out here.”

Shiro rights himself, pulling out of Keith’s grasp and Keith’s heart sinks. He turns to find one of the gym teachers looking flustered. He’s younger than the rest, having just started last year. Keith doesn’t know his name, but now he has a permanent vendetta against him.

“We were just leaving,” Shiro says. 

He takes Keith by the hand and they head back to the locker room. Shiro takes a seat on the bench as Keith packs up his cleats and shin guards. He pulls the clothes he wore to school out of his locker and steals a glance at Shiro. Changing in front of him shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but they just almost kissed and Keith’s heart is still pounding like a freight train.

“Can you, um,” Keith stammers, his face heating.

“Oh,” Shiro says, realization dawning. “Yeah.”

He swings a leg over the other side of the bench, faces away. Keith quickly trades his soccer uniform for his jeans and t-shirt.

“Okay,” he says as he sits down to put on his sneakers. Shiro swings back and slides closer. Keith feels a soft touch on his hip.

“You’ve got a mole, right here,” Shiro says. His fingers tracing over the spot where Keith’s t-shirt is still rucked up. “It’s cute.”

Keith flushes and reaches to yank down his shirt. His knuckles brush against Shiro’s and before Keith can pull away, Shiro takes Keith’s hand in his. Keith watches, awestruck as Shiro presses a soft kiss to his knuckles and then to the palm of his hand. Without a word about it, Shiro stands up and heads for the door. 

“Ready to go?”

\--

Shiro takes him home and Keith manages to have some semblance of chill this time. Shiro leaves the motor running as he lets Keith off.

“Thanks. Text me tonight?” Keith asks, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

“Sure thing, cutie.”

Shiro gives him a quick wink before flipping his visor back down and taking off. Keith’s beginning to worry that he might not survive actually kissing Shiro if this is what not kissing him is like.

\--

_do you like horror movies?_

The text comes around 8:30, just as Keith is finishing up his Calculus homework. 

_depends, I don’t like the gory stuff, but psychological is cool_

There’s a long delay until the next text comes in.

_want to come over on saturday and watch night of the living dead?  
I promise it’s more than just eating brains_

Keith snorts as he types out his response. Even if he hates it, he’s not going to turn down an opportunity to curl up next to Shiro on a couch for a few hours.

_sounds great_

\--

Saturday cannot come fast enough. Between the flirting they’ve been doing via text every night before bed and the way Shiro looks at him during class, Keith is about ready to burst at the seams. On Friday the team has a home game and Keith mentions it, ever so casually, as they’re walking from Calculus to homeroom.

“I’ll be there,” Shiro says before he hurries off to beat the bell to his own classroom.  
The thought of Shiro watching him play for real is exciting but also slightly terrifying. He knows Shiro doesn’t care about the sport itself, he’s just going to support Keith, but still, wants to do his best. And maybe he wants to show off a little. 

\--

Keith ends up scoring the winning goal, so it seems he didn’t have anything to worry about. Hunk picks him up, carrying him on his shoulders all the way back to the locker room. When he finally sets Keith down, Matt claps him on the back and pulls him into a hug.

“Tell your boyfriend to come to all our games if it means you’ll keep showing off for him.”

Keith ducks his head and fiddles with the combination of his lock.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he says.

“Uh huh.” Matt sounds skeptical.

“Okay,” Keith relents. “He’s not my boyfriend -- yet.”

“Atta boy,” Matt says. He throws his gym bag over his shoulder and nods towards Keith. “Come on, I think your gentleman caller is waiting for you outside.”

Keith rolls his eyes, grabs his things and heads out. Shiro _is_ waiting for him. He’s leaning against the wall near the side exit to the gym, picking at his chipping nail polish. Keith wanders over and Shiro’s eyes light up immediately, a huge smile spreading across his face. Keith doesn’t even get a word out before Shiro wraps him up in a hug, lifting him straight up off the ground. He buries his face in Keith’s neck and spins him around. Keith’s still laughing when his feet touch the ground again.

“You were amazing,” Shiro says.

“Thanks.”

“Can I --?”

Keith is about to say yes before he’s even finished the question -- but then Lance careens into him, tackles him in a hug, nearly knocking him over. He holds up one of Keith’s arms like he’s just won a boxing match.

“My man! Leading the Lions to victory!”

Keith laughs sheepishly, shooting Shiro an apologetic glance.

“Thanks, dude.”

“You coming out with us for victory burritos?”

Keith steals a glance at Shiro, back leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.

“Maybe next time.”

Lance gives him a pout and Matt and Hunk have to drag him away. As they leave Keith can hear Hunk say, “Dude, they were having a _moment._ ”

\--

Shiro drives him home and they agree on a time for tomorrow. Keith makes him explain how to get to his house because it’s ridiculous for Shiro to have to pick him up when he lives within walking distance. Keith watches him until he’s out of sight and silently curses Lance before going inside.

After dinner, Keith goes up to his room to finish the small bit of homework he has. He told his parents about his movie date, careful to leave out the word date, and they were fine with it.

“Just as long as your homework is finished,” his mom had said.

He flips back through his reading for AP Chemistry and realizes that he’s gotten all the way down the page and not paid attention to any of it. He should just focus and get his reading out of the way but he can’t stop thinking about Shiro leaning into him, his voice soft, question unanswered.

_were you going to kiss me earlier?_

It doesn’t take long before he recieves an answer.

_I was going to ask first  
but yeah_

Keith slams his phone down on the mattress, buries his face in a pillow and groans. After several minutes of consideration he realizes he’s not going to get anything done until this is settled.

_can I come over?_

He doesn’t get a text back right away and Keith begins to panic. Is he being too needy? They’re going to see each other tomorrow -- maybe he should have just waited? And then his phone buzzes.

_sure_

Keith thunders down the stairs, grabs a hoodie off the coat rack and yanks on his sneakers.

“Mom!” he calls. “I’m going out, I’ll be right back.”

“You’re what?” she calls from the living room. “It’s already dark out.”

“I’m only going a few blocks, twenty minutes tops.”

He hears her grumble her disapproval, but his dad must say something to calm her down because she calls back.

“Be careful!”

\--

Keith runs all the way to Shiro’s house, repeating the directions that Shiro had given him earlier. Four blocks south, make a left and it’s the second house in, the one with the green door. He knocks and tries to calm his pounding heart. A very small white haired lady answers the door.

“Is - is Shiro home?”

She smiles at him and gives him a small nod.

“Just a moment, dear.” 

She disappears from sight and Keith paces back and forth on the stoop. He turns around at the sound of the screen door opening. Shiro’s hair is down, falling into his eyes. He’s wearing muscle tank and a pair of ratty grey sweatpants. All Keith wants to do is curl up on top of him and never leave.

“Hey,” Shiro says. “What’s up?”

“I need you to kiss me -- like right now.”

“Right now?” There’s a tone of amusement in Shiro’s voice, a twinkle in his eye.

“If we get interrupted one more time I’m going to cry.”

Shiro chuckles softly, but he takes a step towards Keith, winding an arm around his waist. Keith never really notices the difference in their heights until Shiro is pressed right up against him. He’s going to have to stand on his tiptoes to be able to reach Shiro’s mouth.

“Maybe I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me,” Shiro says quietly.

“Come here, then,” Keith says. 

His voice sounds confident but there are butterflies in his chest as he slides his hands up Shiro’s broad chest, wraps his arms around his neck. Shiro bends his head and Keith pushes himself up on his toes. At first it’s just a soft press of lips, until Keith slides a hand up the back of Shiro’s shaved head. Then Shiro wraps both arms around him, pulling him closer.

Keith runs his tongue over Shiro’s lip ring and Shiro lets out a soft groan. 

“Fuck, Keith.”

Keith feels the words against his mouth more than he hears them. He kisses Shiro greedily, doesn’t stop until his lips are swollen and he’s out of breath. He buries his face in Shiro’s chest at his heartbeat slows. Shiro soothes a hand over his back, scratches his fingers through Keith’s hair.

“I hope that was worth the wait.”

Keith looks up at him, unable to keep the grin off his face.

“It was.”

**Author's Note:**

> effitsfranki has been posting amazing artwork of Goth!Shiro and Jock!Keith and as much as I love football player Keith, I couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of Soccer Star Keith and his tiny soccer shorts and knee highs. (Spoiler: NEITHER COULD SHIRO.)
> 
> Many thanks to kika988 for the quick beta on this. <3
> 
> Come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/zombietime_)!


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